God is a Child
O God, Sometimes, I think, You are a child, Who scatters the stars, Across the fields of sky, Then, one by one, gather them all, by morn and put them in a bag, Which shines forth and becomes Sun And you carry the bag, From East to West Never you seem tired or bored Never You seem to care What others think You are stoic You are eternal You are benevolent You never cease to surprise